


Jailhouse Blues

by Chaoticreation (winewhiskeybloodandchocolate)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 03:43:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13379424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winewhiskeybloodandchocolate/pseuds/Chaoticreation
Summary: After being arrested for stealing food, Armand Duval gets some heartbreaking news.





	Jailhouse Blues

**Author's Note:**

> All characters involved are my own and copyright to Rory J. Roche. This is my first writing commission, so I hope you enjoy! The request itself was: "Could you write a drabble or one shot where Armand finds out that his mother died while he’s in jail?"

Two weeks had passed and the events still repeated in Armand's mind as if it had happened only hours ago. He rested his head against his pillow, staring blankly at the bunk above him. Fortunately, his cellmate was asleep, and it provided him the opportunity to reflect in peace. When exactly had he managed to destroy his entire life? Certainly, God wouldn't punish him for doing what was necessary to survive. He didn't truly deserve to be arrested for stealing food, did he?

He quickly blinked tears from his jaded eyes, and only permitted the smallest sniffle to escape. He didn't belong here. He couldn't handle it any longer. He just wanted to go home, but his mother would never allow it. Maybe none of this would have happened if they had just stayed in Paris; but that was his fault, too.

 

_The police woman escorted him to the familiar white door with the three glass wedges forming a half circle. Her knock was firm and deafening. An eternity passed before a frazzled stick of a woman answered. Oh, how sickly his mother looked now, with her red nose and puffy eyes. She hadn't been eating. Her once kind eyes were now bloodshot and cold._

_“Yes?” his mother asked curtly._

_“Sorry to bother you, ma'am. This boy says he lives here. Is this your son?” The officer replied. His mother's gaze drilled straight into his soul._

_“Non. He is not my son and he does not live here. He is a liar.”_

 

The brief conversation echoed in his mind, drawing tears out of his broken soul. It drilled into him and tore him apart inside. No matter how hard he tried, He couldn't shake her hardened voice. It had once been so sweet and full of love. Even when he was in trouble, she had never been so harsh.

 

 _“Maman, please forgive me. I want to be your son again,”_ He whispered to himself, praying that God would give her the message. Why had she allowed him to be confined to such a dreadful place? He promised himself and God that if he was allowed to go home, he'd never again make such a terrible mistake.

 

 _“Duval, you have a visitor.”_ The words made his heart race. Could it be? Had maman come to rescue him? Had she forgiven him? The walk to the visitation room felt like miles, and he held his breath as he entered. He searched desperately for his mother's angelic face. Instead, he was met with a strange man in a suit. Immediately, his face fell and his eyes lost their hopeful glimmer.

He took a seat across from the man, trying to keep a tough façade despite the lump in his throat. “Who are you?”

“I'm a lawyer, Mr. Duval.”

“I can't afford no lawyer. Who sent you?”

“This is- a little different. Complicated.” The lawyer made his stack of papers neat and cleared his throat.

“Are you here to get me the hell out of this nightmare?”

“Unfortunately, no,” the lawyer sighed. “I'm James McCormick, your parents’ lawyer.”

“My parents? Is maman in trouble? If you was theirs, you'd know papa died a few months ago,” Armand's voice shifted between concern and an angry hiss.

“I'm aware, Mr. Duval. May I call you Armand?”

“Oui, That's my name. Get on with it. You're making me nervous. Am I getting out of here? Is my mother okay?”

“Armand, I have a letter from your mother. After your hearing, depending on the judge's decision, you- may stay here until a sentence is served, or-”

“Or? If I'm free, I'm free. Did maman say I could go home?” He asked, standing up in his frustration. He just wanted a direct answer already!

“Armand, that's what I'm trying to tell you. Please sit down,” the lawyer said calmly, waiting for Armand to take his seat before continuing. “You may receive your home when you're of age. But until then, if you are released, you'll be sent to a foster home.”

“A foster home? Maman put me up for adoption?!” He cried out. “She really hates me!”

“No, Armand, she loved you very much and regretted kicking you out.”

“Loved? _Regretted_? She changes her mind?” While Armand still had trouble with English, he knew the usage was past tense.

“No, Armand. Your mother has passed away.”

“W-what? N-non! Don't fucking joke like that, you bastard!” It took every ounce of self control not to slap McCormick across the face.

“I'm sorry, Armand. It's the truth. Your mother committed suicide this morning. She made sure her affairs were in order to leave everything to you, and she left you a letter.”

The news felt like a sledgehammer to the chest. He couldn't breathe. His chest hurt- was this a heart attack just like his papa had? He shook his head frantically. “You're a fucking liar! This shit ain't funny! Let me see her! Let me see my mother!” He shouted, resulting in the guards surrounding him.

“Armand, please sit down. I understand how difficult this must be. I'll make sure you get everything that's left. I can try to see if any funeral directors will meet with you here. She already had a plot, so you don't have to worry about that. She'll be buried with your father. Armand, I'm so sorry.”

“It's impossible,” Armand muttered, staring blankly past the lawyer. “She's a good Catholic woman. She's devoted to God. She wouldn't take her life. She wants to go to heaven to be with papa and the twins. That's how I know you're a liar.”

McCormick simply sighed and passed Armand an envelope with his mother's cursive. Armand's bony fingers trembled over the paper for a while before opening the flap. He hesitated to remove the letter, but once he did, tears streaked his pale, scarred cheeks.

 

_My dearest son, Armand,_

_I owe you the most sincere apology a mother can offer. I was wrong to blame you for your father's passing, and I did not act like a mother when I kicked you out. I want nothing more than to have you back at home with me. But I fear the damage is done. I betrayed you, not once but twice. I denied you, like Peter denied Jesus. I know I should be there for you and set you free, but I am not good enough to be your mother. I'm not strong enough without your father. I can't look at you anymore, even though I love you with all my heart. I'm sorry I can't be with you, but I'm going to make everything all better. I left you everything and I wrote a letter to the judge, explaining that you don't belong locked up. That you were taken to the right home and I failed as a mother. I beg the judge to set you free and take any fine from what I left behind. I love you, Armand. Please pray for my soul as I have prayed constantly for yours._

_Love always,_

_Maman_

 

By the time the teen finished reading his mother's final words, the pain in his chest was too much to keep inside. His head fell back and screams erupted from within, hands clutching the letter to his chest as if it was his mother herself.

“Maman, no! God, please be with her! Please forgive her!” He sobbed, shaking his entire body. He was suddenly hyper aware of how alone he was. He was, in fact, an orphan. He only hoped that God would understand and allow his mother into heaven. He gave the lawyer a pleading look, as if the man could somehow turn back time and save her.

“Nothing has been done yet,” said McCormick. “I'm going to see if I can get them to allow you at her funeral. I'll do everything I can to help you, Armand. I'm truly sorry for your losses.”

“I just want her back,” Armand croaked, pressing his forehead to the cold table. “I want my family back. I've lost everyone. I just want them back. I'd give anything.”

“I'll do my best so that you can be at the funeral.”

“I never got to say goodbye. I never got to tell her how much I love her. Maman, please hear me! I'm so sorry! I love you!”

“Your parents know you love them, Armand, and they loved you.”

 

The guards escorted him to solitary confinement. The younger one had explained that it wasn't punishment, but were allowing him privacy. Perhaps it was for the best. He needed some alone time to reflect. He curled up in bed and closed his eyes, wishing he could die too. His sobs filled the small room.

 

 _“My sweet boy, don't cry,”_ _his mother's voice cooed. He turned to face her and her translucent hand gently stroked his cheek, wiping away his tears._

_“I miss you. We could be happy together. Why'd you do it?” He whimpered, taking her delicate hand in his own._

_“I couldn't be the mother you need, Armand. You're such a strong boy. You'll be a good man. You deserve a better mother.”_

_“Non. I don't want another mother. I want you. Stay with me. Don't leave me!”_

_“I will always be with you, Armand. In your heart and memory. The twins need me now. But I will always look after you. I'll always watch over you, and I'll always love you.”_

_“I'll always love you, too, Maman,” he sniffled. “I'll always love you.”_


End file.
